Tuesday, April 12, 2011

DC Dreamin'

This is what happens on the tail end of an overnight shift, mere hours before departing for the first leg of vacation to the East Coast,Washington DC, included. The beginnings of a story from the over active imagination of a small town girl soon to be roamin' the big city. (I'm great at starting stories, shite at finishing them. I'm pretty sure I have what I've dubbed "Writer's ADD," or probably just ADD in general.) I'll just toss the Flash Fiction label on it and call it done?
"Yep. This seems about right."These were the last words to pass through Thomas' mind before he expired. A gunshot wound to the chest has a tendency to have that effect. Though he couldn't quite be sure, what with his dying and all, it appeared to him that the only car passing by just then was a shiny black sedan,the darkly tinted window scrolling up as it turned the corner.It was merely days before his 26th birthday and he found himself on the steps of the United States capitol; the building that plays host to the civil servants working roughly 58% of the year to make the country a brighter place. Generally a peaceful bystander of American politics, the direction his country was moving (he pictured a rope fraying in the middle as it was pulled harder and harder by either side, its fibers nearly ready to give way) made him both uneasy and motivated.He had been standing ther alone, in silent protest, peacefully holding aloft a simple sign he'd made from tag board and construction papered letters. Across a hand drawn picture of his imagined rope, taut at both ends, perilously frayed in the center, he'd pasted the words
As he sat there isolated on the chilly steps, munching an apple with one hand, holding the sign with the other, the only accomplishment he was shooting for that day was for passersby and capitol entrants to digest the message so dear to his heart.Apparently, message received.

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